The moment Master Fischer’s eyes locked onto Asher, a low, menacing growl escaped his lips. “So you’re the bastard who dared to lay hands on my sweetheart,” he spat, his voice thick with rage and possessiveness. Juliet stood beside him, a wide grin stretching across her face. She watched Asher with an almost cruel amusement, eyes gleaming with anticipation. She knew Asher’s reputation—his unflinching calm, his iron will. It was nearly impossible to intimidate him. Yet Juliet believed that sooner or later, they would tame him, break him down to their will. Her smile deepened as she said aloud to Fischer, “He looks calm now, but wait till we’re done with him. Then he will speak to me with respect.” Morgana’s eyes flashed with anger at Juliet’s smug tone, but before she could respond, Asher’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Morgana, Stay back,” he said softly but firmly, as if to silence her outburst. Morgana’s shoulders tightened. She bowed her head slightly, a silent